Sneak peak from Katie and Brian’s maternity photo shoot last Saturday!

Sunday might be my favorite day of the week. Singing “Give Me Faith” after a heart-shaking sermon on the different ways we doubt our faith reminded me how much grace God has poured out on little doubting, undeserving me. “God is too good to be unkind. He is too wise to be confused. If I cannot trace His hand, I can always trust His heart.” C. H. Spurgeon.

Photos from this morning: Rory and Kevin outside the Music Institute (home of Evanston Bible Fellowship on Sunday mornings), pretty flowering tree and stained glass outside an Evanston church, Emily at Kellogg, tulips on Northwestern’s campus,

“It’s amazing how there will be a new little person in the world made up of a combination that has never before existed” says Katie as we stroll through the funky shops on Congress Street in Austin on a perfect April afternoon.

When I paint, an hour is a minute. Time slips away in hues of purple and gray.

Somewhere up there, someone is looking down. When I’m in a plane I often look down at the landscape and wonder if anyone is looking up. Perspective is important. It makes me remember that sometimes I’m the one being pushed forward through the air and sometimes I’m the one with my feet on the ground.

It’s rush hour, the purple line is packed, a gaggle of backpack wearing girls and boys stand with their iPhones laughing about something or another when a very large man becomes lightheaded and faints. He face plants right before their eyes. Thinking quickly they open their camera app to capture this youtube worthy moment. The man wakes up, blood gushing from his lip, teens snickering. An old woman makes her way over to help.

Emily listens intently as this man recounts his embarrassing story during a Psychology of Evil class on Saturday morning. Capable of self-deprecation, he laughs through the telling and explains that it was probably pretty funny to watch. After all, who was he to say that what they did was “wrong”?

Downstairs, the dining room is torn up, my brother is laying new oak floors. The rest of the kids are corralled in the living room and a giant plastic tarp hangs, separating the two rooms. My mom just arrived to pick up Sara, she’s wearing rollers in her hair and six year old Sara is scrambling to get ready. Five minutes ago I helped her find a pair of jeans hiding in the mountain of clean laundry on her bed.  I’m standing in Sara’s room (hence the pink walls) conducting a quasi photo shoot with Ryan when Kate stops in. She picks up Ryan. My shutter releases.

I love coffee.  And these beautiful machines make the best coffee at The Other Brother coffee shop in Evanston.

All she wanted was to have sangria in Barcelona. It wasn’t too much to ask.

My Aunt Nancy majored in photography at Columbia in Chicago several years ago – my brother and I modeled for a photo project one wintery afternoon (how cute are we?!).  I saw my aunt last week for an impromptu Christmas lunch at Prairie Grass. While I was savoring each spoonful of my butternut squash soup,  I learned that her academic plunge into photography didn’t exactly leave her with an idealistic craving to pursue photography as a career.  Apparently, her teachers were judgmental – they didn’t like her “contrasty” style.  Which is sad – because I love this photo! I was so happy when Kate stumbled on this old class project in the attic the other day…  just trying to decide which one to frame.

Note… this photo is a hipstamatic translation of the original.